


Getting the attention of a soldier

by CumberRachel



Series: Recovery is like falling, only backwards [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Hurt Steve, Kinda, M/M, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Stalking, Theft, of a bike
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-24
Updated: 2015-02-24
Packaged: 2018-03-14 23:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,508
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3430271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CumberRachel/pseuds/CumberRachel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glad to see Steve up and about, Bucky tries his best to stay out of sight, until he doesn't.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Getting the attention of a soldier

**Author's Note:**

> If any dates/months or whatever are wrong, let me know. I googled it but it wasn't a huge amount of help. I can't guarantee that all will be posted this quickly, I have exams coming up as well so... As before, any and all mistakes are mine, I hope you like it :)

The assassin watched from afar, his cold eyes calculating the scene around him. Hundreds of civilians: business men and woman, people walking their children to school, commuters, tramps. It was the same every day, no change whatsoever yet the assassin still felt uneasy. Mid-October so it was probably starting to get cold, although he couldn't feel it anymore, a soft breeze on his cheek the only indication of the season.

Turning the smooth planes of the rounded rock in his palm, the assassin shifted again, and again, and a few more times before he sighed and pulled his knees up to his chest. This was an adequate position to sit in, it restricted his movement and it was easy to get out of in he needed to. Like if Steve exited the tower, not that he would follow but it's nice to know he had the ability to. He wanted Steve to exit the tower though, he needed Steve to exit the tower. He needed to see he was okay, needed it like he needed air, and he was beginning to choke.

"Can I get you a top up?" A soft monotone asked, startling the assassin out of his position, slamming his feet down and grabbing the first thing he could, which incidentally happened to be a salt shaker. _Fan fucking tastic,_ he thought to himself, only now registering the girls fear: wide eyes, deep breaths, slight shaking, _shit_. He made a promise to himself that he would try to stop doing this, he didn't need attention to be drawn to himself. The assassin visibly relaxed his shoulders, letting go of the now dented salt shaker. "Please." He said with a small smile and a nod, looking everywhere but her eyes. The waitress was pretty, blond hair that tumbled down her shoulders in what looked like deliberate messy waves. Slender with soft curves accented by the apron. Nice eyes. Bright baby blue. Like Steve's only not as impressive. She nodded and hurried away with his empty mug, probably worried he might strangle her the same way he had the salt shaker. Maybe being in public had been a step too far, the assassin had done okay at the Smithsonian but he didn't have to interact with anyone there, he was less likely to get shocked. Steve would be able to help him in these situations, he would tell him to 'calm down buck, it's just a waitress.' Or something like, 'it's okay, you're not there anymore." Sometimes the assassin told himself these things in the hope that they helped him relax, they never did...

Pulling his knees up again, the assassin rested against the cold metal of the chair, eyes never leaving the towers entrance. It had been a week. A week since he both put his soldier in and then pulled him out of the Potomac. He didn't have the courage just yet to break into Stark Tower, if Tony was anything like Howard was described to be then he would have the highest security a genius could create. Unlike the hospital Steve had been transferred from, much to the assassins dismay. At least he could easily disguise himself while he visited Steve in his sleep. He thanked the waitress as she brought his coffee over, hands slightly shaking still. He'd taken to coffee quite nicely, especially the kind and cafe's like this. He was still getting used to eating, usually throwing most of it up but he persisted if only to quieten his stomach. But coffee settled nicely, giving him a kind of warmth he'd not felt in 70 years. A similar warmth he felt when he remembered Steve. It was followed with a chilling feeling of guilt however, trained and conditioned assassin or not, he shouldn't have hurt Steve like that, and now he had no way of knowing if he was okay.

He was, of course he was. Three days later and Bucky was finally rewarded, the staff had begun to get suspicious of him, or maybe they felt sorry for him as he never left the cafe. He couldn't leave, this was his best, least conspicuous view of the tower. And on the fourth day he received his prize, a perfectly healthy Steve Rogers, super soldier, making his way out of the tower with another man. The assassin recognised him from the fight, he'd had wings, and now he was running with Steve, his Steve who never used to be able to run up two flights of stairs without having to take a break in the middle for air. It gave Bucky a sort of ache in his chest, he couldn't identify it accurately at this time but he would figure it out... The assassin hadn't even realised that he'd begun to follow until he narrowly missed being hit by a bike. His feet hit the ground every time Steve's did, keeping a far enough distance to not be seen, or at least identified, but close enough to keep the soldier in his line of vision.  

All of a sudden the two men slowed to a stop, wings doubled over and breathing hard, the soldier still jogging on the spot. If Bucky stopped too then it would be really very obvious, so instead he pulled his hood up and jogged past, praying he wouldn't be noticed, then taking the left the was just ahead and stopping behind some hut that sold drinks and shit. Apparently wings couldn't keep up with Steve and decided to go home as the latter came running down the path Bucky had just turned down, at a much faster pace than before, kicking up gravel with every long stride, gradually gaining speed. Frowning, the assassin analysed the situation: he couldn't just run after Steve. That would be too obvious, no one could keep up with Captain America. He wasn't prepared to let him just run off either, he wanted to see as much as he could of him, while he had the opportunity. But Steve was getting away and Bucky might lose him, luckily there was a bike rack across the path... Also convenient that Bucky had a metal arm and increased strength that would easily remove a lock. The owner wouldn't mind... Probably. Sliding the bland and frankly quite crap mode of transport out of its holder, Bucky got on and was instantly glad this was a long path with very few turnings, even in the sea of people he was able to see a golden blonde crown and pedal after it.

As with the café, this repeated for about a week: Steve would run with wings, wings would leave, Steve would run flat out while Bucky followed on his stolen bicycle. Not once was he spotted, Steve seemed to be in his own world, plowing onwards and not looking back. Bucky was both thankful and ungrateful, he'd had 70 years without him and now he only got to see the back of his head. A week and nothing had happened, no new memories, only half sleeps, not deep enough for him to dream, thank god. He'd been able to keep some foods down which was progress, little plain things like bread and some biscuits. Everything had been going perfectly, too perfectly and the assassin figured it wouldn't last.

On the last Tuesday of October, Bucky got Steve's attention. Accidentally and not in the way he'd hoped but it worked just the same. Earlier that morning his left arm had been making some odd whirring sounds, this wasn't uncommon as it checked and cleaned itself every so often but this time it was different, more intense, and it was very painful. It was almost as though small bursts of electricity were attacking every nerve ending everywhere the metal covered, forcing the limb to spasm and move in ways it was not designed to. This was how Bucky got Steve's attention. He was pedalling faster than usual as Steve was sprinting as opposed to running, then he fell off his bike. The fault in his arm re-appeared and it was all of two seconds before he was crying out in agony and toppling sideways. Steve must have been sensitive to Bucky's voice as he had stopped and turned, looking back at the crumpled heap that Bucky had become. "Bucky?" He called in disbelief setting out into a sprint and rushing to his side. _No_. He thought. _NO! I'll hurt him again, I can't hurt Steve!_ Sparkling baby blue eyes met his,grey and hollow, for the first time since the Potomac, they seemed darker than he remembered, he even had slight shadowing surrounding them, that couldn't have been Bucky could it? It had been two weeks!

Forcing he assassin in him to take over, deliberately seeing Steve as a threat too large for him, instead of an ally, a friend. Getting to his feet and ignoring the blasting pain in his shoulder; Bucky ran. He ran far and he ran fast into the woodland. Not looking back or stopping.


End file.
